


Duty and Honor

by bobbiewickham



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Brandon Stark's death, Hoster Tully betrothes his elder daughter Catelyn to Jaime Lannister. Originally written in 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty and Honor

Brandon Stark’s death wounded his little Cat more than she allowed to show. Hoster could see the grief in her eyes, though she ran the castle as calmly as she had before. She would have made an excellent mistress for Winterfell. _And a better ruler of Riverrun than Edmure_. But Edmure did not deserve the insult of being disowned for his sister, especially since Riverrun’s daughter could marry into any great house. Catelyn would get her due. 

_But not Brandon._ Lord Rickard’s eldest had not only been a scion of a noble, powerful line. He had been the answer to any maiden’s prayers: handsome, dashing and bold. _And a hot-headed fool_. Perhaps Catelyn was well rid of him, although she couldn’t see that at the moment, and he was not callous enough to tell her so. 

Hoster glanced at the letter on his desk. Eddard Stark had written with an offer to take his brother’s place as Catelyn’s betrothed. Eddard was a steady young man—cold, perhaps, but much wiser than his brother. Already word was spreading of his prowess as a commander in battle. And he was said to be honorable. A worthy match for Cat. 

_And yet…_ Catelyn loved Brandon’s vigor, and maidens needed more than duty. Lysa’s foolishness with that wretched boy was proof of what could happen if the heart were left unsatisfied. 

No, a woman needed a husband she could love, or else her marriage would be cold and joyless. Cold marriages led to cuckoldry and disgrace. Hoster had seen it many times. Was Catelyn capable of that? He did not believe so, no matter what the septons prated about woman’s fickle, lustful and deceitful nature. Nevertheless… _Years of a cold marriage change men and women both._

Did he please Minisa the last time they lay together, when the babe that killed her was conceived? He did not think so. It was she who had come to his chambers, wanting to give him another son—but that was all it was. Duty, not love, and the duty killed her in the end. Hoster felt a sudden wave of sorrow, and something akin to guilt. _Forgive me, my lady._ If she was to die from that night, he wished she could have at least enjoyed it. But the night had lacked both passion and tenderness. 

Would his little Cat die like that, from a dull and loveless night with Eddard Stark? 

Hoster shuddered. He had planned to wed Cat to Brandon and Lysa to Jaime Lannister, so that each of his girls would have a young, handsome heir to a great house for a husband. 

But Brandon and Lysa confounded his plans by proving to be fools. Brandon charged into King’s Landing threatening to kill Rhaegar after hearing some half-formed rumor about his sister, without taking a moment to think. And Lysa actually lay with that presumptuous young ingrate. Hoster still could not believe it. _The girl could have been betrothed to Jaime Lannister, and she throws that away to lie with the Baelish brat instead?_ Young Petyr was not handsome, nor was he kind or honorable, nor was he heir to anything of significance, nor was he poetic like Rhaegar, whom half the maidens in the Seven Kingdoms swooned over. Why then did Lysa become so infatuated with him? 

_Because he was here._ Yes, that was the answer. Hoster knew it in his heart. _I should have foreseen the danger, before allowing Petyr to foster here._ Sometimes a maiden would swoon over the nearest young man who was not her brother, simply because her affections required an object. If Hoster had sent Lysa as a ward to some Tully bannerman or great house where there were male children, then her affections would have gone in a proper direction. _Too late to think that now._ If Lysa had spent more time with men and boys outside the Tully family—men of honor, men of lineage, men of courage…

Hoster looked again at the letter from Eddard Stark. _Or perhaps it’s not too late._ Eddard was honorable. Not dashing—but Lysa did not seem to care for dashing men, unlike Catelyn, or else the prospect of the Lannister boy would have distracted her from sly, quiet Petyr. Lysa was too shy for the dashing ones and barely spoke two words to Jaime when he had visited. 

Young Eddard was shy as well, or so the gossip from the Harrenhal tourney had it. His quiet manners would not frighten Lysa. He was the son of a great lord—no, a great lord himself now. Hoster winced as he thought of Lord Rickard’s fate. A marriage with him would not only befit a Tully, but it would also provide Lysa with a good man, someone who could show her that Petyr Baelish was not the best the realm had to offer a daughter of Riverrun. Eddard also seemed competent enough, which meant that he would not need his wife to rule his lands for him, which meant that Lysa’s lack of sense would not cause too much harm. _She is young. It is natural for her to be lusty. She will learn sense with time._ Or so he hoped. 

Eddard was a better match for a young maiden than Jon Arryn, to whom Hoster had been thinking of betrothing Lysa. He could make the same bargain with Stark that he would have with Arryn: take Lysa, in exchange for Tully swords. _Or I could keep mum about her maidenhead. He’s a boy, too green to tell…_

And Catelyn…Jaime Lannister was much like Brandon, or so he gathered from what Brynden told him. A year or two younger than Catelyn, which was why Hoster had intended him for Lysa, but not so much younger as to make marriage ill-advised. Jaime would need a wife with sense. A brave lad, but not a wise one, by all reports. The boy had actually wished to give up Casterly Rock to join the Kingsguard, but his father found out and shipped him home before Aerys could offer the invitation. 

That alliance was on the verge of failure, which was another reason for a Tully to wed Jaime. A marriage could finally bring the Lannisters over to the Baratheon cause. And Catelyn, with her prudence and her alertness, would make a better wife for a Lannister than feckless Lysa would. 

Hoster had never considered his daughters’ natures before when he thought about who to wed them to. He had merely looked at the great houses with sons of the proper age. But perhaps that had been a mistake. Perhaps even in politics, the heart demanded its due. 

* * *

“One flesh, one heart, one soul.” So the septon spoke. The red and blue Tully cloak was lifted from Catelyn’s shoulders. Jaime draped the lion cloak of Lannister over her with gentle grace, and then took her hand. 

“It suits you, my lady,” he whispered, sounding shy. Catelyn smiled her thanks, concealing her own shyness. His face was so fair, his shoulders so broad, and he was standing so close…

“Time for the bedding!” Catelyn did not recognize the voice that had yelled, but she felt herself pulled away from Jaime by a grinning Edmure. As she laughingly protested, she saw Cersei place a possessive hand under Jaime’s elbow and drag him off. Was it her imagination, or did Cersei give her a venomous look? 

Catelyn frowned, but could not think of it now: the menfolk were surrounding her and Lysa, who was blushing as a Stark bannerman pulled off her direwolf cloak. _She looks happy, though._ Catelyn was thankful—Lysa had seemed out of sorts after Petyr went away. But she and young Eddard Stark had spent the day before their wedding sitting quietly in the godswood together, and when they came back Catelyn saw that they were pleased with one another. 

Catelyn had been to many a bedding, and thought herself prepared for her own. But her nervousness surprised her. She kept calm and traded jokes with the men as they pulled off her clothes, but her stomach fluttered madly. 

At last they were gone. Catelyn felt a brief moment of relief, followed by sheer terror. She was alone—on her wedding night—with her lord husband—and…

He looked as frightened as she was. That made her feel bolder. She stretched her hand out to him, and he took it. Still, he hesitated to come closer, or touch her in any other way. 

_He’s just a boy,_ Catelyn remembered. _A whole two years younger than me._ She felt powerful but burdened: it was her duty to lead, since he could not. 

She leaned towards him and gently pressed her lips against his. Immediately he moved against her, and she could feel his cock come to life. When she pulled away, she saw the same look she would see on Edmure’s face when he ate a berry-cake before supper: pleased and guilty. The poor lad looked as though he thought he was doing something shameful. “This is right,” Catelyn said. “This is what we should do. You needn’t feel like you’re doing wrong.” 

He smiled then, and it made him look so beautiful that Catelyn caught her breath. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I…” 

“I’m your wife,” Catelyn said. Feeling very daring, she reached downwards to hold his cock. “Who else are you supposed to do this with?” 

A shadow seemed to cross Jaime’s face. _Does he have some sweetheart somewhere?_ Catelyn felt a wave of jealousy. Instinctively she clutched him to her and kissed him again. At first he hesitated, but after a few seconds he responded with true passion, holding her with a force strong enough to bruise. 

She thought he would enter her then but instead he brought his head downwards, kissing along her breasts and then her stomach, and finally putting his tongue _there._ She cried out in spite of herself, and Jaime smiled up at her. 

He had done this before—she could tell, he was far too expert—and…”Oh,” she gasped, shuddering as she peaked. She had never felt anything like this. She couldn’t even have imagined, before. “My lord,” she managed to get out. “Jaime…” And then he entered her, and that felt good as well, though it wasn’t the sharp ecstasy of moments before. 

They fell asleep hand in hand, her head resting on his shoulder. But as she drifted off, Catelyn lazily wondered where Jaime had learned to do that. _Probably some older peasant girl taught him_ , she decided, and then sleep finally overtook her. 

* * *

They had been married for six months before Catelyn discovered the…

 _Abomination._ That was the only word for it. Her stomach heaved as she thought of it, and her fists clenched with fury. 

Things had been going so well. During the day, she learned from Lord Tywin’s steward how to run Casterly Rock. Jaime attended these sessions at Tywin’s behest, though she often had to explain things to him. “It’s so boring,” he had said. 

“It’s your duty,” she replied. “You will be lord here some day. You need to pay attention to these matters.”

“I have a dutiful lady wife who can do that for me,” he had said with a smile. 

She smiled back, but said: “You must pay attention as well. What if I make a mistake? Or,” she said, feeling mischievous, “what if I cheat you, and tell you I spent gold on food when instead I bought fripperies?” 

“You would never. You’re honorable. And,” he said, suddenly sober, “I must be honorable as well, to be worthy of your example. Perhaps I can’t have Ser Arthur Dayne’s white cloak, but at least I can try to have his honor.” Then he kissed her, and sat quietly while the steward explained how the items in the cellars were accounted for. 

He made her laugh, and he seemed to think her an interesting companion. And every night he came to her chamber. 

The servants seemed to like her as well. And Tyrion, hideous though he was, was clever and friendly and her best friend in the castle apart from Jaime. 

Then Lord Tywin came to visit from King’s Landing, and brought Cersei with him. Catelyn’s good-father had approved of her efforts to learn all he could about Casterly Rock. But Cersei…Cersei had been poisonous. She gave Catelyn insolence in the guise of compliments, and insults hidden beneath courtesy. She seemed to view her good-sister as the woman who had stolen Jaime from her. _As if Jaime were her lover and not her brother. I should have known._ But how could anyone guess at something so unnatural, something so completely mad? For if anyone else had found out…if Lord Tywin had even suspected…

But it wasn’t Lord Tywin who walked into the cellar where Jaime and Cersei grappled naked with each other. It was Catelyn. 

Jaime had looked shocked, and anguished. _As he should! The bestial, lecherous, deceitful…_ Catelyn did not wish to even think of him. 

But Cersei had looked smug, and when she opened her mouth she sounded very pleased with herself. “He’s mine, not yours,” she had said. “He’ll always be mine.” 

Before she knew what she was doing, Catelyn’s hand flew out to slap Cersei’s lovely, lying face. Cersei reeled from the blow, which drew blood from her lip. “How dare you,” she said hoarsely. “I’m a lioness of the Rock. When I tell Father…” 

Catelyn had laughed shortly. “Yes,” she said. “Shall we go tell Lord Tywin now? Shall we tell him everything?” She drew herself up. She was a Tully of Riverrun and the future mistress of Casterly Rock. She ran the castle now, with the steward. Cersei could not cow her. 

At the mention of telling Tywin of her shame, Cersei shrank back. Jaime looked at Catelyn with a plea in his eyes, unable to speak. 

Without one further word, Catelyn turned on her heel and marched through the castle. Her anger made her blind to the servants who stared at her rage-twisted face. Her feet took her to the door of Lord Tywin’s study, where she came to an abrupt stop. 

How _would_ a lord as proud as Tywin react to his good-daughter accusing his blood children of such a crime? Catelyn could not be sure he would even believe her. 

No, this required more subtlety, more cunning. _Think like a Lannister_ , Catelyn told herself, but she was unused to deceit. 

Then an idea came to her. Before she lost the courage her anger gave her, she rapped on Lord Tywin’s door. “Enter,” Tywin said curtly. 

She came in and closed the door behind her. “A word, my lord?” 

“Yes?” He gave her his inscrutable look. 

“I wished to speak with you about Cersei,” she said.

Lord Tywin raised his eyebrows. “What have you to say about my daughter?” 

Catelyn did not miss the proud, possessive note in his voice. She swallowed before continuing: “Ser Lemmel has been eyeing her,” she said. “You must be aware of his reputation. And she has been returning his glances. Ordinarily I would suggest removing him from Casterly Rock—Cersei is a lioness, and it is for him to leave, not her—but…” 

“…but he must stay here as a sop to his family, or else they may feel slighted, which would cause inconvenience. And Cersei must return to King’s Landing soon in any case, because…” 

Because he had some husband in mind for her, Catelyn guessed. But Tywin seemed to believe her, and to react as she had hoped. Catelyn felt her heart lift just a little. If Cersei left, then she could wean Jaime from his vile desire for his sister, and she would not have to expose him and see him disgraced and punished. Such a disgrace might taint her by association as well, and in any case she…well, she did not wish Jaime ill, despite her disgust. _He has a good heart._ If it were Cersei who had led him astray…if he could be taught better…then perhaps that would be better than exposing him, seeing him punished, and returning to Riverrun.

She left Tywin’s study feeling hopeful, though her anger still burned within her. 

* * *

At least one of Catelyn’s hopes was fulfilled on the morrow: Cersei was packed off to King’s Landing immediately. She pretended unconcern before her father, but Catelyn could see her wrath and disappointment. She cared naught for it: Cersei would be in King’s Landing, while she would be here, with Jaime. 

Jaime came to her chamber that night. After a moment’s hesitation, Catelyn let him in. He sat down on the bed, but didn’t remove his clothes. Instead he simply looked at her as if he hoped she would say something. Catelyn refused to oblige. He had come. Let him take the burden of speaking. 

Finally he did. “I’ve always loved my sister,” he said. “But…you’re my wife, and I…l love you too. I love having you in the castle, and I love going to bed with you, and…” 

“But you still desire Cersei,” Catelyn said coldly. He didn’t love her. He desired her, but if he bore any love for her he could not lie with his own sister in their home. 

“Yes,” he said. Catelyn felt, grudgingly, that his honesty at least did him some credit. She even felt some pity for him. He sounded as though he were in agony. “I know that’s not how one should feel for one’s sister. I know it’s not…not done. I know that.” 

“But you do it anyway,” Catelyn said. 

Jaime stared at the floor for one long moment. “I won’t any more,” he said, when he looked up at last. “I swear it.” 

“If you do,” Catelyn said, “I will tell everyone. No, I will show everyone—I will find you when you fornicate with her, and I will bring others with me. Servants. Nobles. Anyone I can find.” 

“I won’t!” Jaime said. “I swear by all the gods, old and new—I won’t. You’re my lady wife and I love you and…I won’t do it. I will be honorable. I will do my duty.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. 

In his arms, she could almost believe what he said. Perhaps he did love her. Perhaps she might love him again some day, too.


End file.
